One More Glass
by Saiyan-Princess522
Summary: Vegeta has a drinking problem and has trouble admitting it. Will he prevail despite it or fail to recover?
1. Disappointment

WHERE DID I GO?

One more. That's it – just one more.

I keep saying that to myself, but I always end-up in the same place again. Pouring another damn glass or popping-off another cap, the same crap. I told them I would stop – I promised them I would; life just got ahead of me. I am alone.

It didn't start from anything in particular, just exposure to it set off a trigger. It wasn't my choice but the damn woman insisted that I try and have a sip. Who knew it would cause this. Who knew I would do it, and continue to watch my children view me only in my drunken state. I'm not a crazy drunk but a solemn one. Drinking away my past problems and worries.

Bulma threatened to leave me, but that would only make it worse. I've been to counseling and even rehabilitation. Nothing seems to work – I'm helpless case.

…..

I sat at the kitchen table swirling my glass of scotch. It's what I love most, besides Bulma and the kids. She said if I love it so much why don't I marry it. I told her because I was already married to a beautiful woman who I wouldn't hurt ever. She relayed to me that I had already done that and that it was too late to take it back.

Trunks walked in, then stopped when he saw me. He is indifferent about this situation. He feels caught between two parents, two arguments, two sides. Being verbal and acknowledging both of us would just make it easier and let Bulma handle the actual mess.

"Hey, Dad." he mumbled.

I swirled the glass once more, "Trunks, my boy, sit down."

I motioned for a chair but he just shook his head, still standing, "No thanks, I'd rather stand."

"Aw, come on, I insist."

He hesitated then took the seat diagonal from me. Trunks wrung his hands and shook his leg impatiently. We haven't had a real talk since Bulma realized my addiction. Yet, deaf to her concerns about my health, I continue to drink. I drink to suppress the fact that I do, indeed, have a problem.

He stood up, "I'd better go." and with that, he walked out of the kitchen.

I put down my glass and stared at it with deep, cynical hatred. The thing I adored so much has caused so much pain to my family, and to me. Who is it helping? It sure isn't helping me. Maybe I'll return to rehab and actually try to face my past issues, and current ones, head on and not coward behind a bottle like a coward.

I grasped the glass and rubbed my fingers around it. Then, in a moment, I chucked it against the wall causing it to shatter. Then I did the same with the bottle, which was almost empty and threw it. Bulma rushed down and stared at me with bewilderment. She glanced at the broken glass on the floor. Without warning, she ran up to me and hugged me in a tight squeeze, her arms around my neck.

"I'm so proud of you, Vegeta!" she said with excitement.

I smirked, "I know, Bulma, I know."

**WELL, SHORT AND SWEET! COMMENT IF YOU WANT A CONTINUATION OF THIS STORY TO SEE IF HE ACTUALLY DOES MAKE IT THROUGH REHAB!**


	2. CheckingIn

CHECKING – IN

"When in hell are we going to get there, woman?" I lashed out at my wife.

We've been driving to the rehabilitation center for the third time, the other two were absolute failures. It's not my fault I resist authority – I am the Prince of all Saiyans! Why should I? Will these morons actually "cure" me? I hope so…I don't know what else to do.

Bulma tightened her grip on the wheel, "Almost, Vegeta, just calm down. Geez, this is the frist time I've seen you excited to go someplace other than the Gravity Room."

I massaged the gum in my mouth with my teeth, "Well, don't jinx it away, woman."

Bra and Trunks were in the back seats; they would accompany me when I'd check-in but couldn't follow me into the hallways. They knew where we were going. To Bra, at least, it was a camp where "Daddy would get better". That'll keep her occupied for a few years. My hope is that neither Trunks nor Bra would inherit this terrible disease I acquired. They need to grow-up knowing their father didn't want a glass at dinner to excel into what it did.

The West City Rehabilitation Center for Dependancy came into sight. We encapsuled the car and I picked up my suitcase. The automatic doors slid open as we neared it, engulfed in the scent of coffee and hospital. We knew where to go, we've been here just a few times. Trunks and Bra took a seat while Bulma accompanied me to the front desk. The woman manning the desk gave me the same form that I've filled out three times already – it was starting to get repetitous.

Once checked-in, Trunks shook my hand and Bra gave me the tightest hug – probably her Saiyan side. Bulma grabbed my hand and we walked through the doors. Patients were walking about the hallways, some more looney than others, and I looked for room number 45. I've been in 23, 67, and 51 before but not 45. Usually, you would have a roomate. But due to my occasional outbursts, they decided that I was to be alone so I wouldn't danger anyone else.

The hallway was long and well-lit, however, room 45 seemed offly far from the entry doors. Bulma tightened her grip on my hand and wiped away a tear from her face. I sighed knowing this would be harder than the last three times.


	3. Excuse Me?

EXCUSE ME?

Bulma and I walked down towards my new room, not the one I share with her anymore. I'm going to miss her. Her deep breathing, warm aura, and soft movements – not that I would admit it or anything. I've said goodbye to my family too many times. After the Majin Buu incident, I vowed to be a better father, husband, and person over all. I feel as though I failed. I failed my family, people, and myself.

The room was just like the others. Bland walls, plain bed, one dresser. I'm well acquainted with the set-up. I dropped my bags on the bed and looked to Bulma. She was tearing-up – something that always gets to me. If she was going to cry, why doesn't she? What's the point of bottling it up? Wait, I do that all the time why should I be talking?

I took her into my arms and she exploded into my shirt, staining it with hot tears. Her body shook and thrashed, like a miniature seizure. I told her time and time again it was going to be alright. Who would believe the guy who broke a promise not once but three times?

"Bulma," I tried to comfort her, "Bulma, look at me."

She did. Her makeup had run down her face. "You need to let me do this." I told her, "You must know that this is the best thing for me right now."

"I know, I know," she wailed, "but I'm going to miss you so much, Vegeta, so much!"

I petted and stroked her head, soothingly humming a lullaby she would sing to the kids. Slowly, she regained control and sat on the bed, wiping the dirty makeup off her face.

"Look at me, I'm a mess." she complained.

I took a seat next to her, "No, you're beautiful, and you always will be to me."

We just about to embrace each other when an annoying pest walked in, "Oh, excuse me! But, um, Mr. Briefs, we would like to have a moment with you."

Bulma started to tear-up again. I shooed the annoyance away and held her in my arms, walking her out to the front lobby.


	4. Everything's Fine

EVERYTHING'S FINE

Bulma had composed herself so we could walk hand-in-hand to the front desk where a nurse was waiting for me. She had a clipboard in her hand but seemed too inexperienced to be carrying one. I rolled my eyes. I've been through this before, all this "getting to know the place" kind of stuff. All I want to do is get in fast and get out faster.

"Hello, Mr. Briefs," the nurse nodded my way, "my name is Ms. Hessinger and I will be your floor monitor for your – "

"Yeah, yeah, I know already." I butted in.

She seemed surprised, "Oh, alright." she directed her attention towards Bulma, "And you must be his sister?"

Bulma dug her nails into my hand, "I'm his wife you idiot!"

Ms. Hessinger chuckled, "Well, excuse me. Now if you both would follow me to the final registration process. We just need you to sign some more papers."

As we walked down the hall, Bulma leaned in and whispered, "Now, you see that, Vegeta? That is what we call on Earth a 'brainless annoyance'. You may not talk to her, you may not even look at her, do you understand me?"

"Woman, what is the issue? She's just a mindless Earthling?"

"Not just mindless, she's devious. She probably wants to have her way with you like the nurse last time did."

I vaguely remember the seductive and sultry nurse that was in charge of my floor last time I was here. I reassured Bulma, "You don't need to be worried about something like that and you know it. I not only think you're beautiful but I did for you, Bulma. Not many husbands can say that."

She huffed and puffed but did not prevail. It's a usual dance between us where she would get extremely defensive of me like I'm her property – which is not the case. Soon, we arrived at a small office. Bulma took a seat in the chair beside the one I took, facing a muscular man in a shirt too small for his size. Bulma's eyes lit up and I growled to get her attention back to me.

"Oh, stop it, Vegeta!" she slapped my arm.

The muscular man blinked at the mere fact that I could growl, and did growl, and how Bulma and I, well, let's say, "treat" each other.

He handed some forms to Bulma and others to me, "Sign here on the next ten pages, and initial there on the remainder."

"Excuse me, sir," Bulma interrupted, "my husband cannot write."

"Well, then just scribble something…I don't care."

I attempted to scribe the best scribble Sayian-ly possible. When it came to the initials, I turned towards Bulma, "What do I do here?"

Without looking up, she answered, "Write capital V and capital B."

Capital V and B? What the hell does that mean? If the woman says it, it must be true.

All this paperwork was really getting on my nerves. I'm already here, do they have to document every step I make and every breath I take? If this place is legitimate, then they would let me be on my way already.

Bulma grabbed my hand into hers and looked me in the eyes, "Vegeta, are you sure you can handle this?"

I chuckled, "Woman, I've done this before."

"I know," she responded, "but the other times you've failed. Is this the place you need to be at? There are others you know – "

"Woman," I stated firmly, "I do not want to be any farther away from you than I already am – and that is that!"


	5. Alone Again

Alone Again

Vegeta hugged Bulma in one last goodbye; she embraced him with all her human might. After a kiss on the lips, their hands dragged away from each other. They held on until the tips of their fingers skimmed. Bulma gave a reassuring smile, hopeful that he would make it through this time – she was sure of it.

"It will be okay, woman." Vegeta restated for her, "Just make sure the kids put as much effort as they can into their studies and fix the Gravity Room for me when I return."

She chuckled and held-up a hand in goodbye, whispering, "I love you". To that, Vegeta nodded his head and proceeded to walk back through the double-doors. Bulma watched until she couldn't see him anymore and went to the car – these were going to be a tough few weeks without her husband home. She got into the driver's seat and checked herself in the rear-view mirror. Trunks and Bra remained silent as their mother wiped her tear-stained face.

Meanwhile, Vegeta managed to walk back to his room without his wife beside him. A few patients walked about the halls. He sensed most of these people were here for the same reason. He felt so ashamed of not having enough willpower to just say "no". Of all the things he has been through in life, this would be the last thing he would die from. The nursing staff were hectically running about back-and-forth from patient's rooms to the front desk. He was glad he didn't need psychiatric treatment as well as rehabilitation. Even though he has been to hell and back, died twice, and was nearly beaten to death as a child – he couldn't forgive himself from losing not only his body, but his mind.


	6. I Do Know Why

I Do Know Why

Vegeta headed into the first group therapy session, his hands in his pockets and walking upright. He felt as though telling others about one's "feelings" wouldn't solve anything – that is, until he sat down in the chair farthest away from everyone. Group gatherings weren't his thing. At Capsule Corporation whenever Bulma would host a party or fundraiser, he stood in the background. Hell, he didn't even want to be there, but he wanted to support his wife in whatever she was doing.

Once the group had convened, the leader of this particular group tilted his head and said, "Vegeta, why don't you come a sit with the group?"

Was he going to answer? No. his chair was technically out of the circle. Vegeta didn't want to see these people faces, just hear their stories. He was very attuned to listening not so much speaking. He crossed his arms and glared at the man.

"I think it would beneficial for everybody if you would come over a sit with us." The man wasn't understanding that Vegeta wasn't the "group type". He assumed he was knew and still sat stiffly in the plastic chair, keeping his gaze on the man.

"Well, alright then. But instead, you'll have to do a check-in this morning, ok?"

"Hn."

The group went around and did a check-in. each patient would say how they are doing mood-wise and urge-wise. Some said they were great though some were lacking in self-esteem. When it came to Vegeta's turn, he looked away from the wall he was staring at and grunted, "I'm fine."

The man cleared his throat, "Well, Vegeta, you have to say more than that."

"What else is there to say? Am I suppose to tell you that I'm desperate for help or that I want to go home? Let me tell you something, Earthling, I tell you what I want to tell you. I've done too many of these fucking check-ins. Just move on to the next person and try again tomorrow."

The group fell awkwardly silent. That was Vegeta alright, always setting the right mood. The leader looked down on his clipboard and perked up, "It says here that you have children, tell us about them."

"Why should I tell you anything about my family?"

"Well, talking about the ones you love sometimes triggers other feelings to come out. I'm sure you have lots of stories about them."

"I'm not going to waste my time telling you idiots about my home life."

"Vegeta, do you love them or not?"

He uncrossed his arms, "And what do you mean by that?"

The leader smiled a bit, "If you love them, then you would want to make them proud by beating this illness, wouldn't you?"

Vegeta stood up, knocking the chair over, "Listen, moron, I'm never going to tell you shit! Get that in your stupid little head!"

The man did not seem fazed in the least bit, "Your wife looked pretty sad when she left you here. Do you like seeing her sad?"

To that, Vegeta just walked out of the room, slamming the door shut on his way out. He paced in the hallway with his hands on his head. Why? Why did the man pursue the check-in like that. He didn't remember this happening last time he was here. He hated the way the man talked about his family. Seeing his wife sad? Why would he even bring that up?

Maybe, just maybe, he thought, it's a trick to trigger exactly why I am here and why I had to come back. Maybe this imbecile actually had a plan and this "plan" was going to help me. Help – real help from someone but myself. Such a strange concept. Another person, a stranger, wanted to lend a hand in healing you. Bulma, though she could only do so much, helped me when I came to Earth from Namek. She was so beautiful and I was so cruel to her. I vow, from this moment on to step outside my so-called comfort zone and get better so I can get back to Bulma.

Vegeta went back inside the room and took his seat once more. The man smiled at he glanced over at him. The Saiyan prince crossed his arms and leaned back, listening to the others as they tell their tales.


	7. Remembering

Remembering

Vegeta sat on his bed thinking about Bulma. He had put her through so much agony. From not saving them when Dr. Gero crashed their plane, to not being there for Trunks as an infant, only caring about his training and nothing more, to killing himself against Majin Buu. The amount of effort and love, though he wouldn't admit it, to commit suicide cannot be expressed through words by the narcissistic prince.

He was doing this for her. It might seem selfish, but Bulma comes before his children. He could always have more children, but never more than one Bulma. She was the first person he had ever shown affection to or opened-up to about his rough past. She accepted him even in his darkest moments. She forgave him for his evil ways and brought out a good side of him.

He remembered when they had first been intimate. His curiosity for her was only expressed through stares and glances. He had never looked at a woman like that before. The sexual instinct was overruled by his ego and arrogance. Always surrounded by males, Vegeta hadn't had a lot of "practice" with romance. To have a beautiful woman storm into your space and put her nose in your business was like shock therapy to him.

That day, and yes it was during the day, they bumped into each other while turning a corner. As usual, Vegeta barked at her for her clumsiness. Bulma retorted back with more accusations about him being egotistical – which was true. Her chest bumped against his, his hand slid across her waist, all by accident, of course. He immediately removed himself from her space and took a step back. Bulma, however, stepped closer to him.

"Vegeta, are you a virgin?" she asked bluntly.

He almost fainted right then and there, "What? What do you mean?"

"Well," she continued, "have you or have you not had sex yet? I've never seen or heard about a girl before. Are you gay?"

Vegeta regained his composure, "No, woman, I am not _gay_. And simply, Saiyans are not sexual beings. Our instincts are set elsewhere."

She smirked, "Oh, are you _sure_ that you don't have a little bit left in you?" She grabbed his waist and slid towards him. He immediately shoved her away.

"What do you think you're doing?"

Bulma looked disappointed, "What? I thought you would love me to throw myself at you?"

"Imbecile, vulgar, grotesque woman – why would I waste my time sleeping around with an _Earthling_ when I could be training?"

Bulma sighed, "I'm sorry, Vegeta, I guess I just misunderstood. For a minute I thought we were, you know, connecting."

Vegeta perked-up, "Why? Do you think I'm handsome or something?"

Bulma giggled, "Just enough to want to have sex with you."

They stared at each other and smirked. Their eyes locked in on each other, seconds went by before they even breathed.

Bulma took one step forward then Vegeta ran up to her, embracing her. He cupped her face in his hands and breathed hot breath onto her mouth. She smiled and rubbed his muscular arms. Their eyes were still on each other when she led him to her room. Vegeta was breathing heavily; as this was the first intimate connection he has had with another being. His intense desire to want to be with her was satisfied.

Vegeta smiled thinking about how excited he was at that moment. He had no idea that Bulma would end-up pregnant. She mentioned something about protection but he had dismissed it with an array of kisses. He rose from his bed and went to the front desk.

"Can I have a call?" he asked the nurse on-call.

"Certainly." She handed him the phone. He dialed Bulma's cell phone number.

"Hello? Is everything okay with my husband? Oh, please don't tell me he was kicked out or anything!" Bulma wailed on the other end.

Vegeta smirked, "Bulma, it's me, don't worry. It's my daily call to you."

She sighed in relief, "Oh, you scared me for a minute! How is everything, sweetie?"

"Fine, I guess. You should be proud. Not only did I sit in the group session, I actually listened to what others had to say."

Bulma giggled, "Honey, that's great!"

He returned the laugh, "And do you know what I was just thinking about?"

"What?"

He leaned back against the front desk, "That night we first got intimate…"

There was silence, "Vegeta, why would you think of _that_?"

Vegeta's smirk went away, "Well, I don't know. Maybe because you're just so goddamn beautiful and you make me shake inside."

"WHAT? Did you actually just say that?"

"Yes, yes I did. You know, I think you acted the same way that day in the hallway. If I remember clearly, you thought that I wanted to make moves on you. You were so idiotic back then."

"Yeah, well, honey listen, I have to pick – up Bra from school but I'll try to give you a buzz later if they will let me."

Vegeta sighed, "Okay, well, goodbye."

"I love you, Vegeta."

"Same to you, dear." He hung-up the phone and placed it back in its carrier. That woman still make him shake inside, alright.


	8. I'm Ready

I'm Ready

He calmly ate his breakfast with the other patients, casting a glance around the room here and there. Silent as he was, no one talked to him. This happened before when he was here last; his golden silence halted him from making any connections with anyone – though he didn't mind.

Vegeta inhaled the semi-okay food. Probably the budget didn't have enough funds left over for great quality sustenance. He watched as people got up and down, left the room and came in, minding his own business as usual. He missed his children. He missed Bulma's voice in his ear when they would wake up. He longed for her touch and wanted ever-so-much to inhale her smell. Bra's high-pitched voice and Trunk's constant moaning rang in his head. If he thought hard enough, then he could transport himself back home; though when he would wake up, he'd still be here in the same spot, eating the same food.

The next therapy course on his schedule was art therapy. Oh god, how he dreaded this class. Vegeta was not an artist at heart. Training and tracking were more his style. Bulma loved to decorate the compound with intricate pieces of work and delicate, fragile sculptures. Most of the time, they would fall and break because of the booming Gravity Room vibrations that would be sent throughout the house.

Vegeta stepped into the art room, a strong scent of paint and glue in the air. Most of the patients have not yet dressed out of their pajamas. He never used "pajamas". Either he slept fully-dressed or in undergarments. The stool he pulled out from the table screeched against the tile floor; he covered his sensitive ears and cringed. On the table were paper and colored pencils so that before class started, the patients could get their art juices flowing.

This is ridiculous, he thought, we are treated like children here! Nevertheless, to pass time, he grabbed a red pencil and a blank sheet of paper. He was early to class, not like he had anything else to do. He leaned his head on his elbow that was propped against the hard tabletop. His tired eyes blinked twice and then he got an idea. He started to draw the Saiyan Royal crest – something he was oh-so-familiar with. It triggered a lot of memories of his father and training with him, making him proud to be his son. But then, the memories were shattered when he thought of Freiza and the way his father just handed him over.

Vegeta slammed the pencil down and crumbled the paper in his hand, ripping it to shreds. Pieces and bits flew all around him, everyone stared at him. The teacher, with a warm smile on her face, came up to him and placed a hand on his back. He was too angry to notice.

"So, you didn't like that drawing – why don't you draw something else?"

He gritted his teeth, "No more drawing. I _hate _drawing."

She remained standing beside him, "Vegeta, you have to do something artistic. It will help you a great deal in your progress here."

He said nothing. She was just about to return to the front of the room when an idea hit her, "Hey! Why don't you write a letter to your loved ones, that should make you happy."

What? A letter to my loved ones, he thought angrily, how absurd! Then again, Bulma would really appreciate something in his writing since all he put her through – it was the least he could do. With that said, he grabbed a black pen from the center of the table and a fresh, blank sheet of paper, beginning, "Bulma".


	9. Sorceress

Sorceress

Vegeta started out his letter to Bulma, though his writing skills were lacking:

_Woman,_

_Yu hav no idia how yor caring and compasonat hart haz on me, Yu bring me joy that somtims I hav no clue what to do wit it._

_I no I can be ass, and I wil work on that_

_Vegeta_

Feeling satisfied with his letter, he folded it and sent it to his house. He sat impatiently by the desk waiting for response mail. His daily calls got taken away since he was being arrogant and an ass lately. Then, one morning, he got a letter back:

_Dearest Vegeta,_

_First of all, what kind of writing is that? Haven't I taught you anything? You might as well of wrote it in Saiyan. Good news to hear that you finally appreciate me. That was long overdue. The kids miss you and await your arrival back at home. Take your time and recover – we believe in you!_

_Love,_

_Bulma (and Trunks and Bra)_

Vegeta smirked at the letter, he needed to hear the woman's ranting. He folded the note and put it in his pocket. Group therapy was about to start and he was sure he was going to be asked to speak. He sat in the circle with everyone else. This one lady took a special interest in him, always sitting near him and staring either at him or in his general direction (he could never tell which). The same guy who led the same morning class pushed up his absurdly small glasses.

"Well, good morning, everyone. How are we this morning?" he asked. Few answered, including the creep-of-a-lady who stalked Vegeta.

"I think it's about time we heard from Vegeta, isn't it?" the patients all nodded and murmured in agreement.

The alien rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, "Fine. What do you want to know, weakling?"

"Let's start off with your name, age, where you're from, and why you're here."

Vegeta answered the man honestly, looking him in the eye, "My name is Vegeta, I am, by your Earth standards, around 48 years of age, I live in West City, and I am here because I have succumbed my will to the magical drink you call alcohol."

"Good, good start – go on!"

Vegeta frowned, "Go on what?"

"What else should we know about you? How old are your children?"

"My son is 14 and my daughter is 5."

The stalker lady chimed in, "Oh, how cute!"

Vegeta scooted his chair away from the crazy woman. He pulled out his letter from Bulma and rubbed it, "That woman, she is quite the sorceress!"


	10. Living Nightmares

Vegeta woke in the middle of the night. It was quiet in the hospital, just the sound of the monitors beeping in the background. He made out the sound of his breath and rubbed his head. How did he end up in the hospital? Last time he checked, he was in the rehab center. His thoughts wandered to whether he did something stupid and he couldn't remember. Nonsense! He never forgot anything – he was the prince of all Saiyan's!

Just then, Bulma and Goku entered the room with a doctor he never saw before. They were talking to each other as if he wasn't there.

"It's a shame," Bulma spoke, "he was doing so well this time."

"Yeah, "Goku answered, "I thought he had this one in the bag. I never thought Vegeta would go down like this."

Bulma sighed, "I guess he's not as strong as he said he was. The best thing we can do now is forget about him – hell, the kids already have. They don't want this low-class fool as a father."

Goku smiled, "Now, I'm officially the strongest in the universe and the last Saiyan. No one can stop me – not like Vegeta had a chance, or anything."

Bulma chimed in, "Let's not talk about him anymore, Goku. Why don't you move into Capsule Corp. and use the Gravity Room; you know, the one he used all the time – it's yours now." Vegeta couldn't believe his ears. He was clearly awake and listening to them. They were looking right at him!

"Bulma! Kakarott! What are you idiots talking about? I'm right here, you buffoons!"

Bulma furrowed her brows, "Did you hear something, Goku?"

Goku cocked his head, "It sounded like Vegeta – but he's dead."

Bulma chuckled, "And thank Kami, too. I'm glad I don't have to hear his complaints and rants ever again!"

And with that they left the room, the doctor still standing there. Vegeta was too speechless to speak. The doctor came over and pushed him down so he lay on the bed. For some reason, Vegeta didn't hesitate and complied. The doctor grabbed the bed sheet and lifted it over the Saiyan's head, saying, "Well, it was nice knowing ya, buddy." The sheet was pulled over his head and the monitor stopped beeping – the heart rate was flat. He was trying t o scream but he couldn't, his mind in a haze. He saw the gates of hell nearing him and he felt the eternal flames beating down on him. Everything went blank.


	11. Green Eyes and Voices

"Helloooo! Mr. Vehgehta, time to geht up, sir!"

Vegeta awoke with a start in his usual suspicious manner. Beside him was not Bulma or Kakarott or the strange doctor, but a nurse with a thick Jamaican accent.

"Who are you? Where's Bulma?" To that, the nurse just laughed and checked off his sheet. They were accustomed to "go with" what the patients might be rambling about - it's part of the job.

"No Buhllma tooday, joost me. Now let's geht you dressed ahnd ready for brehkfahst. Today you ahre seeing your pseechiatrisst, Dr. Goodvin."

Vegeta's mind was not on the nurse speaking to him. He was so spaced that he didn't even notice the nurse touching him and hurrying him into his clothes. He usually felt comfortable with his body, considering he worked so hard on it for the past forty years. The only person to have seen him naked was Bulma, and a few physicians on Planet Vegeta. When he was first admitted to the hospital, he was still sobering up; therefore, he needed assistance washing and dressing until he could stand on his own two feet again, literally.

With his morning chores done, he heads into the dining hall. Being Vegeta, sitting alone isn't and unusal behavior. So, he sat in his usual seat, sitting alone, until another patient, a woman with piercing green eyes, slumps into the chair diagnol from him. He eyed her, she eyed him.

"Hey," she uttered, a mouth full of food, "the name's 'Manda, but people call me Mandy."

Vegeta narrowed his eyes as if he is questioning her speaking to him. He continued to eat his food, which Bulma had to make special accomodations for considering his appetite. Mandy paused, then continued on with what she was going to say anyways, "I know who you are, well, everyone here does for that matter. You're Vegeta Briefs, married to that chick who owns Capsule Corp."

Vegeta, again, glared at this woman in response to her reference to Bulma, "Yes, that part is true. You know everything about me."

Mandy continued, "Well you make it very known that you are an easy target."

He put down his fork, "Target for what?"

"Gossip. Word around here is that you're lookin' for a fix. I know a guy who can get things - great things! But it'll cost ya." Just before Vegeta could refuse, Dr. Goodwin, his psychiatrist, came into the hall and motioned for him. Vegeta didn't so much as smirk or even frown at Mandy, leaving her defeated and fixiated at the same time. He made his way down the hall and into an elevator with this doctor. He was new, and not happy to be working here, Vegeta could tell.

"So, Mr. Briefs, how are you adjusting to life inside our facility?" asked the naive doctor.

"Well," Vegeta answered, "if you looked at your goddamned chart, maybe you'd see I've been here quite a few times before." The doctor ignored his hostility and wrote it on the chart Vegeta was referring to, instead. The air smelled of hand sanitizer and eucalyptus. Probably because the offices were located right next to the gymnasium which had a sauna. His sneakers and the doctor's well-polished shoes squeaked on the linoleum. Dr. Goodwin motioned Vegeta into his office, and to have a seat across from his desk. Once seated, Vegeta looked at the pictures of the doctor's family: two human parents with three human children, all smiling on the beach. He wished he could have provided that for Bulma, the life he thought she wanted.

The doctor's booming voice brought him back to Earth, "Yeah, those are my wife and kids. I know that you have some of your own, too, am I right?"

Vegeta solemnly looked at him, "Just get to the point. Why am I down here?"

"Right." said Dr. Goodwin, "I'm going to ask you a few questions to see if we need to put you on any medication to ease whatever is going on inside your head. Ok, have you been experiencing moments of sadness or melancholia?"

"Yes."

"Alright, how about anxiety or irritation?"

"Yes."

"Over what?"

Vegeta sighed, "Not being at home with my woman and offspring."

Dr. Goodwin furrowed his brows at his odd wording but continued, "Any thoughts of harming yourself or others?"

"No." Even Vegeta questioned his response. He never thought that would come out of his mouth!

"Do you experience mood swings that seem more extravagant or frequent than others?"

"Well, I guess."

"Explain."

He thought hard on how to word this properly, "I get what Bulma calls 'explosive' then I calm down into a melancholic state. But to me, I'm just impatient some moments and quiet the next."

"Ok, are there any voices that you can hear and other cannot? And the same with seeing things that are not there?"

"N-no?" He didn't quite get what he meant but the doctor just wrote it off as negative.

"Finally, do you have any thoughts of death or suicide?"

Vegeta felt like he was hit in the chest, "My entire life has been surrounded and based on death. You tell me if I don't think about every moment of everyday! The constant reminder of how I got on the forsaken Planet and why; seeing my son, and how I let him die - twice! Trying to protect my daughter in these times of peace - you tell me!"

Dr. Goodwin removed his glasses and laid back in his chair, "Mr. Briefs, I'm going to put you on a medication that will help 'quiet your mind' as we like to say. It's called Seroquel and I'll put you on 100 MG to start and we'll see where that takes us, alright?"

He reached out to shake Vegeta's hand, ending their meeting, but he refused, as usual, and walked out the door.


	12. Promiscuous Nurses and Respect

After a while, day three rolled around, and day three meant a visit from your family - and a family meeting with your doctor. Vegeta's been through this whole drill before except this time it's with that awful-excuse-for-a-doctor, Dr. Goodwin. He woke at the same time to a different nurse, a muscular, bald man with a thick Yankee accent that made Vegeta want to put his head in a meat grinder.

"C'maan, ser, ya gaat ya faamily meetin' t'daay! Don't make me yaank ya outta bed, there!" screamed the nurse.

Often times, Vegeta felt a sexual meaning was present behind those misunderstandable words, and complied with his requests so he could move on with his day. He always scheduled things for first thing in the morning: his workouts, meals, and rendez-vous's with Bulma. So, he got ready for the day and skipped breakfast, excited and eager to see his loved ones. He almost skipped out of the room when the nurse grabbed his arm.

"Whoa there, buddy! Ya gotta take ya mehds!"

Vegeta shook his arm off, "What medication are you speaking of?"

He looked at his chart and said, "Uhhh, it saays here that you're on 100 MG of Seroquel. Am I wrong 'bout that?"

Vegeta groaned and rolled his eyes, waiting for the nurse to escort him to the medication counter. He had never taken medication before in his life, for fear of how it was going to interact with his alien system. No doctor has ever put him on any sort of medicine since he landed on Earth 20 years ago. The nurse "gently" pushed Vegeta out the door and into the hallway, directing him to the counter where he stood in line with everyone else - all forty of them.

Once _that_ was over, Vegeta headed straight for the rec room to meet with his family. Sitting in blue plastic chairs was Bulma, Trunks, and Bra, along with Dr. Goodwin. Bra warily jumped down from the chair and bolted towards her father, crying, "Daddy!"

Vegeta scooped her up and extended and arm out to Bulma, who slammed against his body, though he couldn't feel it. Trunks just stood there with his arms crossed, looking very "Vegeta-like".

"Trunks." his father called out.

The purple-haired teen just looked to the side and clenched his jaw. Vegeta gave up on trying to reach his boy, he did a long time ago. Dr. Goodwin motioned for the family to sit and a chair was pulled up for Vegeta.

Bulma was holding onto her husband's hand not wanting to let go; while Bra squirmed in her chair and played with her doll. The doctor cleared his throat and commenced the meeting.

"Well, Vegeta, how do you think you've helped stop your addiction to alcohol since you've been at the hospital?"

Vegeta looked at his family: Bulma with beaming eyes, Bra not even paying attention, and Trunks with the same frown upon his face. He sent a deathly glare towards his eldest, "I feel as though I have made tremendous progress regarding my constant inebriated states. I can tell by the way my son, Trunks, is so elated with joy."

Trunks's eyes darted all around the room, wide with embarassment, "Daaaaddd!"

Bulma interjected, "Trunks, honey? Is - is everything alright? Your father is working really hard to make sure this time around works. The least you could do is be happy for the man! Haven't you seen the difference, already?"

"Yeah!" Bra snapped, "Show some 'spect for Daddy!"

Dr. Goodwin piped in, "Well, it seems you have around 66% of your family's support. In my books, that's enough to send you home for an early discharge."

Both Bulma and Vegeta exchanged concerned glances, "But-but-but..."

The doctor sighed, "Things have changed since the last time you were admitted, Vegeta. We have adopted a short-term stay policy where the patient comes here to be stabilized then has the option of going to an additional facility for further care or home. You have my full approval."

Bulma had a confused look, "But didn't he just start new medication today?"

"Now that's the only issue presenting itself." Dr. Goodwin noted, "If you have a psychiartist waiting for him when he is released, then you have full approval from myself and the actual hospital itself. You'll need my signature and the signatures of your case worker, wife, and head physician."

Bulma patted Vegeta's hand, "Do you think we can make this happen?"

He looked at her with determined eyes, "Get the Gravity Room powered-up, woman, because I'm coming home."


	13. A Hug for Goku

The day had finally come. Vegeta was going home. He felt a wave of relief overtake him as he snapped his suitcase shut - and this time, for the final time. Bulma will be waiting for him in the lobby, alone, since the kids were at school. He looked around his room once more and departed for the swinging double-doors. No one stopped to say goodbye, possibly out of jealousy, but Vegeta didn't mind - he could care less.  
>Bulma was in the lobby, waiting, just like she said. Tears cascaded down her porcelain skin and she sighed a breath of satisfaction. She had missed him, more than he could ever imagine. Bulma worked from home and Vegeta, well, was home. Their relationship prospered off of the fact that they see each other more than most couples, but they still kept their healthy distance. This week had been excruciating for Bulma: not waking up to her prince who slept beside her, making him sandwiches well-before the sun rose, and kissing his luscious lips that once uttered words of terror, now speaking soft mantras of love to her.<br>Their bodies met and she contined to sob into his arms, and he let her. He knew she needed to let out her joy, frustration, and anger because he had not ben at home to recieve it. What was she going to do - let it all out on the kids? He picked up his suitcase he dropped and placed a protective arm around Bulma. She was too elated to drive, if such think could even occur. So, Vegeta, uneagerly started the vehicle, pulling out of the hospital. Little did he know, there was a "small" welcoming party back at Capsule Corp. Bulma took the liberty of arranging that. All he could think about was breathing in the freash air of his precious Gravity Room, eating endless amounts of her mother's cooking, and sleeping next to the woman he loved so dear.  
>They pulled into the home and capsuled the car. Bulma took his hand and lead him to the front door, stopping to leaning against the wall. She pulled her prince towards her and he placed his hands on her waist. They listened to each other breathing, syncing with each inhale and exhale. He leaned towards her and put his left hand on the wall behind her, seductively looking into her eyes. She leaned in for a kiss and he did not decline the offer. He scaled whatever hand was free at the time through her hair and down her back. That is, until he heard that familiar voice.<br>"But, Chi-Chi! I don't want to arrive late, you know I hate that!"  
>"Calm down, Goku! It's better than not showing up at all!"<br>He stopped kissing Bulma and looked at her with complete distaste in his eyes, "Woman, what's going on here? What have you been scheming?" She turned white then smiled because she could hear Goku's voice, too.  
>She rubbed his lipstick-stained lips, "Fear not, my dear husband. It's just a little get-together to celebrate you return home."<br>She led him inside where the whole Z Gang was there, eating all the food Mrs. Briefs cooked-up. For once, Vegeta didn't mind seeing all of these buffoons - in fact, he quite enjoyed it. Former enemies gathering to celebrate him; this really boosted his ego. Goku stumbled in with Chi-Chi as if nothing was wrong. He raised a hand up to wave at his former archrival, but instead, recieved a "hug" from the once proud prince - which Goku gladly accepted.

There you have it, folks! Vegeta looks like he's on his way to recovery! 


End file.
